Certainties

Last night I was babysitting for my half niece and nephews in law, who are only pseudo related to me, but are kind enough to call me family. They're so sweet in every way a person can be sweet. I had forgotten how much I love to be around children. They have this amazing power to brighten even the worst of moods.

Five year old Gabe, the youngest of the group, had to go outside and look at the moon for a school project. I remember having to do that when I was fourteen, but of course Gabe is much smarter than I was then, and quite possibly smarter than I am now. We stared up at it for a few minutes in silence and I asked him what he thought about it. He looked up at me brightly, his face glowing in the reflection of the night sky, and smiled. "If a person had wings that they could attach to their arms, they would fly up there and see that it's not silver, but yellow," he said. I asked him if that was because it was made of cheese, a fact I was certain of when I was five. He raised his eyebrows and stared at me as though I had two heads. "No," he told me "I saw a special on TV about the moon when they went up in space and saw that it was yellow." I told him he was so smart, to which he responded a prideful "I know, but not as smart as my dad. He's the smartest person in the whole world. He knows everything."

We made our way back into the warmth of the house, Gabe's words resounding in my head. I suddenly realized just how much I missed that feeling of knowing my parents held all of the answers. I suddenly realized just how much I missed such certainty in my life. I suddenly realized part of me would give anything to have it back, and at the same time, part of me wouldn't give up the knowledge I have now for anything in the world.

The older I get, the more I think about the path that lead me to this point. I analyze why I am the way I am, how I became this person, where my soul derives from. My sister in law, god bless her, has made me so aware of family, of studying those patterns in our history. I often think what my life would be like if my parents had been different people, if they had made different choices. I think about what that alternate version of me would be. I think about what I wish they would have done differently, what I will do differently for my children, but the truth is, there are no certainties.

There's no guarantee that this alternate version of myself that I've created would be any better than the current version of me. I long to feel a little more dependent on my parents, on their opinions, so that I didn't feel like I could do whatever I wanted all the time. My freedom often scares me. It leaves me with more options than I know what to do with, but at the same time, I love my independence. I love the prospect of endless possibilities. I love that I can live my life for me, follow my heart, trust my instincts. Between the two extremes, I would choose being independent over being dependent any day, but I wish I knew how to get the balance right for my own children. I wish that I could point to the places in my life and say "this should have been different," but I can't. Finding the answers to the balancing act of creating oneself isn't that specific. There aren't moments that I can look back on and honestly say that I'd do them any other way given the opportunity to begin again. Life is what it is.

I am who I am. Maybe things would be better if I weren't, but maybe they would be much worse. I have no way of knowing for sure. What I do know is that I have things to be proud of. I am a strong, independent, thoughtful, creative, loving person and even if my life is turned upside down tomorrow, that will continue to be true. That is a certainty, the same way children will always brighten the worst of moods and the moon will always illuminate the dark night sky.